Underwater
by cellarprincess
Summary: Just when things in Beacon Hills seem to have calmed down, a new menace threatens Derek's new pack and Stiles is stuck right in the middle of the fight. Takes place almost immediately after Season 2. Smutty Sterek slash! Rated M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Stiles was exhausted. Between dealing with all the Kanima madness and trying to keep his GPA up, he was ready to crawl in to bed and sleep forever. But here he was, propped up at his desk in first period AP history, barely able to keep his eyelids open. The ticking of the wall clock was lulling Stiles to sleep so he gave in and let his head nod a little to the side, only to be startled out of his seat moments later by the bell.

He looked around quickly to see if anyone noticed his jumpiness but as usual no one was paying him any attention. Even as first line he was still just Stiles when he wasn't out on the field. He paused for a moment, absentmindedly staring out of the window, half-standing, half-crouched over his chair.

"Stiles, what are you doing?"

Stiles froze. He knew that voice, even feared it on occasion. He turned his head away from the window slowly and gaped at the man standing at the front of the class. He could feel his palms begin to sweat. _Derek._

"Shut your mouth and sit down, Stiles," Derek said, the corners of his mouth showing no twitch of humor. Stiles sat, though his mouth remained slightly open.

"To the rest of you, let me introduce myself. I'm Derek Hale and I'll be your substitute teacher for the next few weeks. Now turn to page 205 of your books and we'll begin."

Stiles looked around at his classmates, who didn't seem to be affected by the news one bit. Though Derek was getting a lot of stares, mostly from the girls. He let his gaze return to Derek only to let out a little laugh. How had he not noticed before? Derek Hale was wearing a suit! A perfectly tailored one, at that, black with a gray shirt underneath and a black tie. He'd even shaved. Stiles covered his mouth quickly, knowing that Derek had heard him laugh even without his damn wolf talents.

"Is something funny, Stiles?" Derek asked, glaring at him from under his brow.

"Nope, not a thing, carry on Mr. Hale!" Stiles squeaked, grinning. Derek stared at Stiles a moment longer, then turned to write on the chalkboard.

The rest of the period went by quickly, though Stiles was having a hard time concentrating. It was killing him wondering why Derek was even there at all. He didn't know much about Derek's past so perhaps he was qualified to be teaching but, still...it didn't seem like teaching teenagers very well suited the wolf. Something was definitely going on.

The bell rang and everyone filed out of the room, though Stiles waited behind until everyone had left. Derek had taken a seat at his desk, seemingly engrossed in whatever he was now reading but looked up when Stiles' shadow was cast across his page.

"What the hell are you doing here, Derek?" Stiles asked.

"I'm working," was the gruff response.

"Oh, come on, I know you well enough by now to know that can't be the only reason you're here. There's something else, isn't there?"

"It's none of your concern."

"So there is something going on! What is it? I swear, I never get a break. Is it something with Peter? Oh shit, did Gerard actually turn? I thought he was dead! Wait, how did you even get a job here? They must just take anyone..."

"Shut up, Stiles. Now go, you'll be late for your next class," Derek said, curling his lip slightly as he cut Stiles off.

"Can't you just give me a hint? Please?" Stiles asked, fluttering his eyelashes and grinning.

"Go now, or I'll..."

"I know, I know, rip my throat out..with your teeth." Stiles laughed. "How many times have I heard that already?"

Derek's eyes glowed red and a low growl escaped his throat as he began to rise from his seat.

"Okay!" Stiles said, flinching back a bit. "Leaving now! This is me leaving! Great talk!" he shouted as he ran out the door, the next bell ringing loudly in the hall. He needed to find Scott.

* * *

"Yeah, I know," Scott said, shrugging his backpack on to the locker room bench.

"Wait, you do? Why didn't you tell me?!"

"I just forgot, I'm sorry. All this stuff with Allison and Jackson, and now Peter coming back...I just can't keep everything straight in my head." Scott sighed, sitting down next to his backpack, rubbing his eyes. Stiles sat down next to him.

"It's okay, I get it, I'm tired too. I guess I'm just flustered. Seeing Derek teaching this morning freaked me out a little. I don't want something else bad to happen again, especially not so soon, but I keep getting this feeling that something isn't right. I just want to be prepared. I hate not knowing what's going on around me." Stiles crossed his arms over his chest, holding his biceps as if he were cold.

"Well, don't worry about it. Derek just said he needed some money and this was a convenient way to do that. Just don't try to cheat on a test or anything," Scott said, suddenly grinning at Stiles.

"Oh god," Stiles groaned. "I can see it now: some poor kid is going to whisper some snide remark under his breath and Derek is just going to go berserk. Great, there is definitely _nothing_ to worry about."

* * *

Surprisingly, the class actually liked Derek who, after only a few days, seemed to warm up to being around people. Maybe all he had really needed was to be a bit more social and not all alone, stuck in his own gloomy mind. Stiles thought about that every time he saw Derek now, actually curious if there was a completely different person under his cold, solid, distant exterior.

Still, Stiles didn't let his guard down with Derek. He'd seen him charm people with that perfect, white smile of his and wasn't about to get lulled in to a false sense of security. There was still a feeling in Stiles' gut that said danger was coming and he had the sick notion that it had something to do with himself.

It had been a week since Derek started teaching and every day Stiles pestered him after class about why he'd suddenly decided to teach at Beacon Hills High. He still got the same response, however, which drove Stiles crazy. There was no easy way to make Derek talk. Stiles was going to have to find information on his own.

Scott, being the ever supportive friend that he was said that Stiles was just being paranoid. And the rest of Derek's pack didn't have a thing to say either. There was still one person left who might know something but Stiles wasn't sure he wanted to chance a meeting with Peter.

"Fuck it," Stiles mumbled under his breath, heading back to his Jeep now that classes were done for the day. He'd go find Peter and hopefully coax an answer out of him without getting himself killed. At least Peter wasn't quite as secretive as Derek.

Lost in his own thoughts, Stiles didn't notice there were people standing in front of his car until he was practically stepping on their toes. Stiles' heart skipped as he looked up in to the gleaming red eyes of three growling alphas.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! ****This is my first fanfic _ever_ but I couldn't resist trying my had at some Sterek since I'm admittedly a bit obsessed at the moment.** Hopefully this chapter isn't too boring, I just needed to get a bit of set-up out of the way. Lots of fun Sterek magic to come!

** I'm hoping this whole thing turns out well. I'm kind of using this as a way to get back in to writing so I can get some of my own original work going. Anyway, thanks again!  
**


	2. Chapter 2

His first instinct was to run, seeing as it was his usual response to danger. Stiles knew such an idea was futile, even as he flexed his legs to propel himself away from the three terrifying wolves bearing down on him. You don't out run an alpha, let alone three of them.

His second instinct was to shout for Scott or, hell, even Derek. On second thought, definitely Derek. But in the fraction of a second it took to simultaneously turn to run and attempt to yell for help, a heavy blow hit the back of his head. As Stiles slipped in to darkness, crumpling to the ground, it dawned on him: there had been a fourth wolf.

In his unconsciousness, Stiles dreamt. His dreams were feverish, a collage of snippets of his past, of voices and whispers in the dark, and as he seemed to fall through each moment of thought, all vision turned to Derek. They were back in the pool, Stiles holding Derek afloat, only now Stiles was also the Kanima, watching himself from the swimming pool edge. He saw a gleam in his own eyes as his pool-bound self tread water to save a man he thought he hated, their faces, their lips, not quite so far apart. And then the scene changed again, and again, twisting images tumbling Stiles through wave after wave of Derek-riddled memories, each one more fleeting than the last, each one proving that perhaps there was more to how Stiles felt about Derek than just hate.

The first thing Stiles heard as he slowly gained back his consciousness was the soft drip of water on damp stone. He fluttered his eyes open, though he could only see faint shapes in the darkness. Stiles could feel his wrists and ankles pulling his body taught, bound in cuffs attached to chains that rattled against the grate he was strung up on. He felt utterly weak and exhausted. His body twitched suddenly as pain hit him like a sack of bricks. Stiles let out a feeble groan.

"Hello?" Stiles managed to whisper, finding his throat dry and rough as sandpaper. His hushed voice echoed vaguely against the walls. There was no response. He tried again, a little louder this time even though his throat burned from the strain. Again, there was nothing. The pain too distracting, he gave up calling for anyone. His brain pounded inside his skull, begging to be freed, his eyes stung even as his skin felt raw. If it was even still Friday night, this was really the worst way to spend it.

Though he felt confident that his father would be out looking for him if he'd been missing for at least a day, he held no confidence that his captors had anything pleasant planned for him. He just couldn't understand what a bunch of alphas would want with him. He wasn't even a threat, especially not to one of them.

Unless...unless he was bait. Perhaps they thought Derek would come to the rescue with his newly-formed pack the moment he realized what had happened. But then that left the question of what they wanted with Derek at all. Or were they after Peter? So many questions and each one only intensified the dull thumping in his head.

Stiles attempted to push the pain out of his mind and instead focus on his bonds. He tested the cuffs around his wrists but they were too tightly locked to allow for any maneuverability. That left his ankles but with no option of getting his hands free, there was little hope of moving his legs. The 'x' shape his body was currently forced in to was not helping ease any of his discomfort.

He was on the verge of tears when he heard it, the low, heavy, howl of a really pissed off werewolf echoing through the room. Stiles struggled to swallow the dry lump in his throat, unsure if he should feel relieved or terrified. He went with terrified, though apparently his nether regions hadn't come to the same conclusion – his cock was starting to get hard. Stiles blushed in the darkness, cursing his body for responding like this every time he heard 'Were howls. Thank god he'd been sitting down behind a desk the first time Scott had howled...

Just as Stiles' cock reached its full hardness, pressing against his jeans, the room exploded with light and sound as the door burst open. He couldn't see from the sudden brightness but he could hear gunshots mixed with the loud crashes of heavy violence somewhere above him.

"Stiles, can you hear me?"

Dazed, Stiles turned his face toward the voice and smiled a little, nodding. Derek's face, etched with concern, was just inches away from Stiles'.

"We don't have much time," Derek said, bending down to rip apart the shackles on Stiles' ankles. As the first one clattered to the floor, Stiles was suddenly very aware of how close Derek's face was to his erection. Flustered, he watched Derek remove his second shackle. If Derek had noticed his hard-on, he wasn't acknowledging it, though Stiles still turned red with embarrassment.

With both shackles removed, Derek rose and wrapped one arm around Stiles to support him as the cuffs dangling Stiles by the wrists were each ripped easily apart by his free hand. Stiles' limp body collapsed on to Derek, who deftly repositioned Stiles until he was cradled in Derek's arms.

After a quick scan of the room, Derek bolted through the door. Stiles curled himself up as small as he could, resting his head against Derek's broad chest, listening to his heart beat steadily as he ran. They moved quickly through a long, concrete hallway, up some cracked steps, and burst in to the crumbling house that had once been home to the Hale family.

Stiles was only vaguely aware of his surroundings, still too out of it notice much. He caught only glimpses of the battle – fur, bullets, people, blood, all sailing by as Derek ran to the front door. Stiles couldn't tell who was winning.

"Let's go!" Derek roared behind him, jumping through the front door, over the porch entirely, and landing heavily in the leaf-covered yard, Stiles still cradled in his arms. Derek paused and turned to watch as Peter came bounding out of the house, followed quickly by Scott, Isaac, Boyd, and, much to Stiles' surprise, Chris Argent and a group of his men. It was then that Dr. Deaton rounded a corner of the house, his face serious with concentration, trailing black powder behind him.

"Ashwood," Stiles croaked. Derek nodded as they watched the vet connect the ends of a circle that must have surrounded the whole house. Not too soon, either, as the alphas came plummeting through the door after them, only to be thrown backward by the force of the invisible barrier that now trapped them. The alphas quickly sprang back to their feet, growling and pacing the porch.

"Now we burn it," Chris said, appearing beside Derek and Stiles. Derek's face clenched.

"It's the only way to beat them," Peter said, calmer than he should have been considering his past experiences with fire and this house.

"Fine," Derek said firmly, looking down at Stiles, "I'm getting Stiles out of here." Stiles thought he heard a slight quiver in his voice. Derek turned away, not looking back to watch the Argents torch the house, the howls of the alphas being burned alive filling the surrounding forest. Stiles would never forget that sound.

Derek was silent as he drove Stiles away from his old home that was once again aflame. Stiles watched him out of the corner of his eye as he drank heavily from the water bottle Derek had given him, for the first time unsure of what to say to the man. Instinctively, he put his hand on Derek's shoulder, ignoring the slight flinch he'd prompted.

"Thank you," Stiles said wearily, looking directly at Derek, "I know none of this could have been easy." Derek glanced over at his passenger and nodded.

"As much as you hate me, Stiles, I know you would do the same for me," Derek said, "you're a good person. I've lost too many good people." He turned his gaze back to the road. Stiles followed suit, though he left his hand on Derek's shoulder. And for the first time since Stiles had met him, Derek didn't tell him to remove his hand.

They remained quiet for the rest of the trip, even though Stiles was bursting with questions. He had too little stamina to really focus on anything anyway. They would have to wait. It didn't take them long to arrive back in to town. When the car finally came to a stop, however, it was not in front of Stiles' house.

"Isaac's? But my dad..." Stiles mumbled as Derek helped him out of the car.

"It's okay, Scott told your father you both were going camping over the weekend. He has no idea what happened," Derek said. Stiles sighed; he hated lying to his father, which is all he ever seemed to be doing these days.

Too weak to protest, Stiles was pulled in to Derek's arms once more as he was carried in to Isaac's house. Stiles was almost starting to enjoy being carried around; he'd forgotten how much he'd missed being cared for.

Inside, without turning a light on, Derek gently laid Stiles down on his back on a bed that he could only guess had been Isaac's. Stiles tried to push himself up on his elbows to say something but Derek shushed him and placed a hand on his shoulder, helping him lay back down.

"Just relax, there will be time for questions later. You need to feel better first. I'm going to help ease the pain a little, okay?" Derek said, pulling Stiles' bloodied shirt up over his head. His soft, pale chest moved gently with each breath, his nipples strikingly pink against his skin. Derek ran his fingers over Stiles' torso softly, lingering over the dark bruises that clustered on his ribs, pulling as much pain as he could from his body with every caress.

Stiles was beginning to feel better, the sharper pains subsiding in to dull aches. His eyelids began to droop, Derek's ministrations so comforting and gentle that he wasn't sure how much longer he could remain awake. As sleep took him, he smiled, wondering where Derek had learned to touch like this. Though Stiles could not see it, Derek smiled right back at him.

* * *

Stiles awoke with a start, disoriented by the sunlight streaming in to the unfamiliar room. He quickly looked around the room but saw no one. He glanced at the sheets next to him where they were crumpled and still warm. Had Derek slept next to him all night? Stiles blushed at the thought.

"Awake, I see," Derek said, walking in to the room holding a steaming mug, "how do you feel?"

"Better, thank you. Really disgusting, but better," Stiles said, running his fingers over his buzzed hair.

"Good," Derek said, handing Stiles the mug, "here, drink this. It should help, too." Stiles took the mug and gulped it down, thirstier than he'd thought he was. It tasted of honey and lemon, and something else that he wasn't quite sure of. Derek was right, it did help.

"Okay, I really think I need a shower. I can smell me and when_ I_ can smell myself I know it's bad," Stiles said, handing Derek the empty mug. He threw the sheets off himself only to let out a yelp and scramble to pull the sheets back up.

"I am naked! Why am I naked?!" Stiles yelled, his voice cracking.

"I had to make sure you weren't hurt anywhere else. Plus, your clothes were bloody. You fell asleep and I thought you wouldn't mind," Derek said, not looking away as Stiles glared at him.

"Well, I do mind! Oh god, you've seen me naked, bare, _in the nude_. I think you even slept in the same bed as me!"

"I couldn't leave you alone...I was worried about you." Derek's voice went tender, then, as he stepped closer to Stiles, who had the sheets pulled up to his chin.

"Oh," Stiles said, his look softening a little, "thanks. Um, I still really want to shower. I'm really okay now. Do you mind?"

"If you're sure. I'll be in the next room, just shout if you need anything," Derek said and left the room, leaving the door open a crack.

Stiles, sluggishly pulled himself from the bed, still feeling rather sore all over. He made his way to the connecting bathroom and started the shower. As he waited for the water the heat up, he inspected himself in the mirror, wincing at the bruising around his eyes and nose. He'd been roughed up a little more than he'd thought. Thankfully, he didn't remember a thing. Still, he wasn't about to impress anyone with his face beat up like this. Then again, he never did anyway.

Once he was under the hot spray of the shower, Stiles let out of a sigh of relief. He tilted his face up under the stream of warm water. It seemed to wash away any thought of worry, sending him in to an almost trance-like state. Before he knew what was happening, his head dizzy from the heat, Stiles fell toward the tiled floor of the shower.

"Oh, god," Stiles mumbled. But then Derek was there, catching Stiles' head just before it hit the floor.

"I can't keep my eyes off you for one second, can I?" Derek said. He picked Stiles up and carefully leaned him against the shower wall, protectively hunching over him. The water pouring over Derek caused his clothes to cling to all the right places.

"S'okay, I can't stop staring eith-" Stiles breath caught in his throat as Derek cut him off, pressing a kiss against Stiles' quivering lips.

* * *

**Ugh, I feel like this is shit. Some feedback would be great! I hope this wasn't too boring or anything. Since this is more of a writing exercise for me, I'm only posting first drafts and not really doing anything to revise.**

**Anyway, yay flirts! And sexy times ahead, woohoo.**


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles couldn't speak. Not due to a loss for words, no; it was because Derek's tongue was hungrily exploring Stiles' mouth. His head was already spinning from the heat of the shower and this wasn't helping, but in the best possible way.

With a groan, Stiles pushed his lips hard in to the kiss. He wrapped his arms around Derek's still-clothed torso, feeling his tight muscles ripple and flex under his fingertips as he pulled Stiles closer. Stiles' heartbeat quickened drastically, his cock rapidly hardening. Derek broke the kiss suddenly, noticing his pulse increase, causing Stiles to let out a gasp.

"Are you okay?" Derek whispered, studying Stiles' eyes. They were glazed over, distant.

"Yeah," Stiles managed to breathe out, "yeah, don't stop." He smiled, he cheeks flushed red.

Derek nodded and, still supporting Stiles' weight, turned them around so Stiles' back was under the spray of the shower. With new fervor, he nuzzled and kissed along Stiles' jawline and down his neck. Stiles let out soft moans, lost in the moment, tilting his head back to reveal more of the soft flesh of his neck to Derek.

Time slowed then, every second lasting a lifetime. The beads of sweat on Stiles' forehead shimmered as they followed the contours of his face down to drip softly off his chin. Drops of water bounced off Stiles' back and sparkled past Derek's face in torrents, mixing with the steam to wrap them in a new, vaporous, world. In this moment, they were no longer on Earth, but lost in universe of Them.

As Derek worked his way down to Stiles' small, pink, nipples, his passion turned more and more animal. Gentle growls rumbled in his chest, his fingertips pressed hard in to Stile's back. He swirled his tongue quickly over a nipple, nipping at it occasionally as it hardened in his mouth. Taking his cue from Stiles' squirming, he kissed his way over to the other nipple and repeated the process. Stiles didn't think his cock had been harder in his whole life.

Before Stiles knew what was happening, Derek was on his knees in front of him. Derek ran his fingers across Stiles' chest and stomach as he looked up at him, his cock just inches away from Derek's lips. With a small twitch of a smile, Derek leaned in close to Stiles' groin. He moved past Stiles' cock, sliding his hands down and over Stiles' small, but plump, ass cheeks, and proceeded to cover his sensitive inner thighs with wet kisses.

Stiles moaned, his lips parted slightly and still rosy from kissing Derek. He watched Derek make his way up his thigh, closer and closer to his throbbing cock, ready to beg Derek to stop toying with him and just get on with it. He obviously enjoyed teasing Stiles within an inch of his sanity.

As if he had read Stiles' mind, Derek moved back to face Stiles' cock. He looked up at Stiles again, opened his mouth, and pulled the flat of his tongue across the tip of Stiles' swollen cock-head, watching as Stiles closed his eyes and shuddered in pleasure. Derek continued to lick and suck the tip of Stiles' cock, savoring the precum that leaked out in frequent drops on to his tongue. Stiles opened his eyes and gave Derek a agonized, pleading look. Derek's eyes turned red in response, his fingernails growing long, the growls in his throat rising in urgency.

Derek ran his long fingernails over Stiles' thighs and, in one swift motion, swallowed Stiles' cock whole. Stiles' eyes widened, gasping at the sudden warmth and pressure of Derek's throat wrapped around him. Stiles reached out and grabbed a fistful of Derek's hair, holding on tight as Derek thrust Stiles' cock in and out of his mouth, taking him fully each time. How Derek wasn't gagging, Stiles didn't know, but he never wanted the man to stop. The growls from Derek vibrated around his cock and pushed Stiles closer and closer to the edge.

Hunching over Derek, using his arms to support himself on the shower walls, Stiles stared as Derek slowly pulled himself off Stiles' cock. Long strings of spit covered his shaft and seeing it stretching from Derek's red lips drove Stiles mad. Derek took Stiles' cock in his hands and, using his own saliva as lube, roughly began pumping him between his palms. It was more than Stiles could take.

"Derek, fuck...fuck, I'm gonna cum," Stiles gasped out, unconsciously pulling Derek's head toward his cock. Derek opened his mouth and sucked hard on the head as cum erupted over his tongue and hit the back of his throat. Stiles' small, bruised body trembled, exhausted from most intense orgasm he'd ever experienced, nearly collapsing again.

His eyes returning to normal, Derek helped Stiles upright and turned the shower off. Stiles was looking at him wistfully, a smile stuck on his face, completely dazed. They exited the shower together and Derek dried Stiles off quickly, then wrapped him in a towel and sat him down on the closed toilet seat. Stiles was still smiling his frozen smile, intently watching Derek, who had turned his back to Stiles, strip out of his wet clothes. He got a quick glimpse of Derek's perfectly firm and sculpted behind before he swiftly wrapped a towel around his waist and turned back to Stiles.

"Stay here, I'll get you something to wear," Derek said, his face more serious than Stiles would have liked. He waited patiently for Derek, who returned in no time with some dry clothes, which he placed on the bathroom counter.

"Can you dress yourself?" Derek asked. Stiles nodded.

"I need to pee though, give me a minute," Stiles mumbled.

"Okay. I'll be right outside," Derek said, leaving the bathroom but not shutting the door. Stiles didn't even notice.

When Stiles emerged from the bathroom, Derek had already changed in to dry clothes and was sitting on the bed with his back against the headboard. He looked almost serene, watching a sleepy Stiles make his way toward him. Stiles climbed on to the mattress , wearing one of Derek's gray t-shirts and a pair of his black boxer-briefs, looking like a boy in his father's clothes, shyly peering at Derek from under his eyelids. He scooted himself next to Derek and pulled his knees up to his chest. He looked so small compared to the silent man beside him, their arms so close they were touching.

"Next time, I'll help you..." Stiles murmured, closing his eyes. Without even realizing it he drifted off to sleep, his head supported by Derek's shoulder.

When Stiles woke up the next morning to the sun shining on his face, he discovered three things. One, that he was back in his own bed in his own room and that there was a warm spot next to him where, presumably, Derek had been sleeping just moments ago. Two, judging from the open window, Derek was no longer in Stiles' house. And three, that Stiles was running very late for school.

He propelled himself out of bed, regretting the quick movements immediately as he winced and held his ribs. Oh yeah, _that_. He was still dressed in Derek's clothes, much to his surprise, but didn't think too hard about it as he quickly undressed and threw on some clothes from a pile on the floor that smelled clean enough. There was definitely not enough time to shower. He grabbed his backpack and ran out of the house as speedily as he could without hurting himself too much.

As he reached the front door, he remembered his Jeep was still at school and panicked for a second. He'd never make it to class on time on foot. But when he threw the door open, there it was parked in the driveway, waiting for him. He sighed with relief and scrambled in to the driver's seat, finding the keys already in the ignition.

Once he was out on the road Stiles had a chance to think. He knew Derek had brought back his jeep, just as he knew Derek had somehow brought him home without waking him or his father up. The guy was talented, to say the least. Last night had been proof of that...

"Oh shit, last night!" Stiles shouted, eyes going wide. The details were a bit fuzzy, he'd been so out of it, but he recalled the gist of it. _Derek_ had given _him_ head and he'd _liked_ it. No, no, he'd _loved _it. Every minute of it. Did that make him gay? Was Derek? He couldn't deny that the man was sexy but Stiles had never thought about Derek in a sexual way...had he? He had to admit that being pushed up against things by Derek had started become a bit of a turn on. And those dimples, when he'd occasionally smile. Stiles felt a twinge between his legs. He adjusted himself quickly, not at all happy that Derek's was the first class of the day.

He reached the school just as the bell rang. He scrambled out of the Jeep and steeled himself for a potentially troubling day, practically running to class. He didn't need Derek mad that he was late, especially after all he'd done for Stiles. But when Stiles strode, nearly gasping, in to History, glancing at Derek from the corner of his eye, Derek did not even acknowledge his tardiness. Instead, he kept his back to the class, writing the day's notes on the board.

Stiles couldn't concentrate at all on the lesson, or anything going on around him. He just watched Derek, studying every subtle movement as though he could glean answers to the myriad of questions jammed in to his cranium. Derek seemed to be doing his best to ignore Stiles completely which drove him mad.

The end-of-period bell rang finally and Stiles attempted to leave as fast as he could to avoid any confrontation with Derek. But as Stiles crept by, he heard Derek sternly call his name. He turned and stared at Derek, who stepped to the front of his desk to face Stiles.

"Mr. Silent-Treatment decides to speak," Stiles said, rolling his eyes.

"Stiles," said Derek, giving him a pained look, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for..."

"For not warning you about the Alphas, or keeping you safe like I was supposed to. For last night. None of this was fair to you."

"Oh. Yeah. And for ignoring me all class period," Stiles said. Derek just nodded, looking both ashamed and embarrassed. "You owe me some explanations. I still don't know why any of this shit happened to me!"

"I know. I know I fucked up."

"Derek, look, now isn't the time to talk about this. I have a class to get to and I don't even know how I feel about anything...about you," Stiles said, heading toward the door. He paused before leaving and looked over his shoulder at Derek and sighed.

For the remainder of the day, Stiles really thought hard about himself, and Derek. Luckily, he'd always been the introspective type so it wasn't too difficult to try to sort things out in his head. He just wasn't sure he was going to like the realizations he might come to.

A few things he knew for sure, like that he was still completely In love with Lydia and, after thinking of having sex with any of the attractive guys from lacrosse and failing to get aroused, that he wasn't gay. So what was his issue with Derek? It couldn't just be what he was, his animal self, that made him attractive to Stiles. It was so many more things.

In his head, Stiles composed a list of reasons he might be drawn to Derek, hoping to find the root and squash it from his mind. Obviously, the man was loyal; he was powerful, but not so much that he'd lost his humanity, like Peter had; he watched out for his pack, if a bit gruffly. And then there was his body...which is where Stiles' list ended every time. Because once he'd start to think about Derek's body, it was over, he couldn't think of anything else.

At the end of the day, headed to his jeep, he was still lost in thought about Derek. It was when he was scanning the parking lot to make sure there weren't any other nasty things waiting to kidnap him that he spotted Derek watching him from the school entrance. He had his arms crossed and still had the facial expressions of a man sorely disappointed in himself. Stiles quickly looked away and climbed in to his car, trying hard to keep the images of last night as far away as possible.. The more he thought about what happened in that shower, the more he remembered and the more his body wanted it to happen again. And Stiles really wasn't ready for that just yet.

That evening, as Stiles made himself some dinner, the doorbell rang. Stiles had been so focused on seasoning his stir fry that he nearly jumped out of his skin. He composed himself and headed to the front door, very aware of how alone he was in his house.

Stiles opened the door to reveal Derek standing on his porch looking like a lost puppy. He had changed out of the suit he'd been wearing in class and was now in his usual: t-shirt, jeans, and leather jacket. Now that Stiles thought about it, this look definitely suited Derek better. Rugged fit him perfectly.

"Hey," Stiles said, "what's up."

"I brought your phone back," Derek said, handing Stiles his phone, "you dropped it. When you got kidnapped."

"Thanks, awesome, I was wondering where it was."

"I was going to leave it in your car for you but I figured it might get stolen so I held on to it."

"Good thinking," Stiles said, tapping the tip of his foot against the door jamb. They stood there, staring off in opposite directions, avoiding eye contact like the plague. Stiles coughed.

"Okay, this is too awkward," he said, "just, come in. I'm making dinner and it's as good a time as any to talk."

"How are you feeling?" Derek asked as he followed Stiles in to the kitchen, sniffing at the air.

"Better, still sore everywhere though. The bruises will be there a while, I'm sure."

"Better is a start. It smells amazing in here. Can I help?" Derek asked, standing awkwardly by the table.

"It's mostly done. But what you can do is spill the beans. Tell me _everything. _I want to know about the alphas, why I was kidnapped, why you're teaching at my school. Don't hold back. You owe me that much," Stiles said as he checked the rice. Derek grimaced but took his jacket off and sat down at the table.

"Okay, well, let's start by saying that you're not like most other humans, Stiles. You have a gift and it might start drawing a bit of...supernatural attention."

* * *

**Hooray, finally a bit of sexy times! Hopefully you all like where this is going. I'm trying to stay as true to the show as possible while making up my own plot. Luckily, I have lots of ideas of where I'm going with all this so that's pretty exciting!**

**As ever, feedback would be great! **


	4. Chapter 4

"It wasn't until that night at the rave, hunting Jackson, that I realized there was more to you than meets the eye," Derek said, watching Stiles' back as he filled plates with stir fry. "Deacon took a risk when he gave you the ashwood to circle the warehouse. I didn't tell anyone but there was always a chance that that wasn't going to work." Stiles placed a plate in front of Derek, setting his own down opposite and taking a seat.

"Great, that's a terrifying thought. So, what, I'm magic now?" Stiles said with a laugh, spearing a piece of broccoli with his fork. Derek watched him closely as Stiles popped it in to his mouth.

"Yes and no. You won't be able to shoot fireballs out of your hands or anything but you do have a power over some things that, in the hands of anyone else, would be otherwise useless."

"Like the barrier thing."

"Like the barrier, yes."

"You're sure I can't shoot fireballs?" Stiles asked with a pout, examining his fingertips as he flexed them.

"Positive. Deacon knows more than I do about it. In light of recent events, he's agreed to teach you all he knows."

"Cool. That still doesn't explain the rest."

"I'm getting to that. Apparently, when someone like you begins to use their abilities, they let off a very unique scent. Humans can't smell it but wolves can. I assumed you would be safe here, as the only wolves around were us."

"Until the alpha pack showed up." Stiles said, getting up the refill the empty plates that they had surprisingly managed to gulp down amidst all the talking.

"Yes. They came for Peter, thinking he was still an alpha. Then they caught wind of you and rather than pursue me they went after you. You're a bit of a commodity now," Derek said as Stiles beamed. "Anyway, that's why I decided it was best to stick to you as closely as possible. I thought teaching would allow me to keep an eye on you, and the pack. Apparently, I can't keep anyone safe." Derek looked down at his plate, eyes darkening. Stiles bumped his toe against Derek's under the table, causing Derek to jerk his head up quickly.

"Derek, you did your best. You can't be there twenty-four-seven, no one can. You came to my rescue, with way more people than I expected. Don't beat yourself up over it."

Derek nodded as he stood up and cleared their empty plates from the table.

"Was it good?" Stiles asked, moving to put away the left overs from dinner for his dad.

"Was what good?"

"The food."

"Oh, yes, it's really good, thank you," Derek said with a grin. "I didn't know you could cook."

"Grow up with a busy dad and no mother, you tend to learn how to take care of yourself."

"True. Very true."

They did the dishes together, Stiles washing and Derek drying, keeping the conversation flowing, but light. Stiles was surprised at how comfortable he felt around Derek, doing such a mundane task. They had always been so much at odds that Stiles had never really considered that Derek had the potential to be a good friend. And now that Derek as opening up a bit, a friend is what Stiles was starting to think of him as. However, there was still the matter of last night to deal with.

* * *

"Okay, my turn to talk," Stiles said, pointing to the couch. Derek sat where instructed, Stiles taking a seat next to him, close enough that if Derek had opened his legs a little wider he would have been touching Stiles' knee with his own.

"Look, about last night," Derek started sheepishly, before Stiles cut him off with a pointed look. Derek closed his mouth with a click.

"Yes, about last night. As hard as I try, I can't stop thinking about it, thinking about us." Stiles swallowed heavily. "Derek, I'm straight. I'm in love with Lydia, as much as I know that will probably never happen. I've never been turned on by a guy-"

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Let me finish. I have never been turned on by a guy...until I met you. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I've been in to you for a long time."

Just as the last word left Stiles' lips, Derek had him flipped on to his back and pressed against the couch cushions under Derek's muscled body. Derek was grinning, a hungry twinkle in his eye, as Stiles caught his breath, only to let out a hearty laugh at the whole situation.

"I think I've been waiting my whole life to hear you say that," Derek said as Stiles put his hands on Derek's chest. Derek pushed himself closer and kissed Stiles softly, inhaling deeply. "I can still smell last night on you, it's been driving me crazy all day."

"Didn't have time to shower las-" Stiles began before a gasp escaped his lips. Derek was lavishing rough kisses along Stiles' collarbone and all Stiles could do was give in.

Stiles closed his eyes, lost in the moment, unaware that Derek had picked him up, cradled in those powerful arms, and was making his way up to Stiles' bedroom. In moments, Stiles was pushed up against the headboard, Derek's face just inches from his. His musk filled Stiles' nostrils, a mesmerizing mix of misty forest and leather.

"What are you waiting for?" Stiles mumbled, brushing his fingers over Derek's chest. "Take me."

* * *

**Sorry for the delay and brevity of this chapter! I've been busy with other projects and I'm not even sure how much longer I'll be updating this since I want to get more time in with the novel I'm writing. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it!**


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